Mingo's Highland Rose
by highland laurel
Summary: Mingo's responsiblity to two orphaned children changes his life forever.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The fall had been glorious. Coming early and lingering longer than usual, the weather helped Mingo and Daniel's trap lines yield prime pelts while the men enjoyed the crisp, cool mornings and frosty bright nights. Daniel's joyous homecoming the week before Christmas delighted his family, and the delight spilled over to include their best family friend. Now before the winter settled in with snow and biting cold, Mingo was on the last few miles of his journey to his own home. 

As he happily walked through the early winter sunlight he became aware of the smell of a campfire. Winter was not the usual season of travel. Puzzled, he carefully approached the camp. Through the bare hardwood trees of the forest he could see one small farm wagon, topless, and three people. Beside the fire huddled a child and a woman. Standing beside it was a man. In the woman's arms was an infant, cuddled close and swathed in blankets. Mingo could see no livestock or dog. 

Standing sheltered by the tall leafless trees, Mingo hailed the camp. His mellow voice rang out suddenly through the quiet Kentucky forest, startling the three people. The woman clutched the baby close and fell to the ground, the little boy beside her. The man dropped his steaming cup and grasped his gun, pointing it with obvious intent in Mingo's direction. Not moving, Mingo continued to talk to the family, his voice as warm and soothing as he could make it. Finally, the startled pioneer lowered his gun but did not put it down.

"Come on in. But I'm keeping my gun on you." The accent was unmistakable. The man was from the Scottish highlands.

Smiling in his friendliest manner, Mingo walked into the camp. The highlander's gun raised to Mingo's chest as his appearance announced his Cherokee heritage. The two men stood facing each other for several seconds, measuring. Finally the Scot gestured for Mingo to seat himself. Keeping both hands plainly visible and his gun pointed to the ground, Mingo sat. His eyes sought the child's face, and when the little boy glanced up Mingo's smile lit his friendly face. Responding to the smile, the child raised himself and stood looking at the Indian man seated before him.

"Where's the others?" The man's voice was challenging, wary.

"I am alone this morning. I have been trapping and just sold my pelts to the storekeeper in Boonesborough, a day's journey to the north and west." Mingo met the man's blue eyes, his own guileless and honest. After another few seconds of measuring, the man lowered his gun. But Mingo noticed that he did not put it down. The little boy was helping his mother to stand. Without thinking, Mingo's courtly nature caused him to reach out his own hand to help. The man instantly pointed the gun threateningly and barked a warning. Surprised, Mingo froze, his hand still extended to the pale white woman. The infant in her arms produced a thin, high wail of weakness. The woman staggered and sat back on the log where she had been only moments before. He could see her weak trembling. Frowning, Mingo addressed the man still holding his rifle pointed at Mingo's head.

"I mean no harm to any one of you. Please forgive me, but winter isn't the best time to travel anywhere, especially through the wilderness. Are you in some kind of trouble? If so, let me help you. My village is only an hour or so away. We are Cherokee and friends to the people of Boonesborough. Frankly, I am not confident that you can reach the settlement. Your wife and children are weak. They are looking to you." Mingo's eyes expressed anxiety, and he saw the same emotion reflected back in the other man's blue eyes.

Another minute of measuring and caution passed before the Scot sighed and nodded. The words began to pour from the man's chapped lips. "We were looking for my wife's brother's family. They staked a claim in the Kentucky territory last year and we were to join them this fall. But we couldn't travel very fast. My wife..." The man's voice trailed away and a deep blush covered his ruddy face. Mingo nodded his understanding. The baby was a newborn. The woman must have been in the last weeks of her pregnancy as they began their travel over the mountains. Careful not to imply foolishness, Mingo finished the man's story.

"The baby was born in the wilderness just recently, and you had to stop. The first snow caught you here."

The Scot nodded and continued. "We aren't really sure where Ronald is. He drew us a map, but the forest seems to close in and I am not an experienced woodsman." MIngo heard the shame and regret in the man's voice. He stood and looked at the map the other man had taken from his coat pocket. It was very crude and Mingo himself, familiar with hundreds of miles of surrounding land, wasn't sure of the location. He traced their probable route back through the Gap, and asked several questions about the location of their brother's home. The Scot couldn't provide much information other than he was west of the mountains. Mingo looked down into the man's deep blue eyes. He could see the man's embarrassment at his foolhardiness. Mingo smiled and extended his hand.

"I am Mingo. I was educated in London, but I live with my mother's Cherokee people. Come, let me take you there. You will be fed and housed, and you can pass the winter gaining strength to face the challenges of homesteading in Kentucky. Together we will discover the probable location of your family's cabin. Then in spring I will help you find it and you will be ready to begin your life anew."

In the silence of the winter morning, MIngo could hear the soft breathing of the four people around him. He understood their silence, and stepped a few feet outside of their camp. The man and woman spoke together several seconds. In the mid-day light Mingo could see that the woman was very weak. The knowledge made an impatient sigh escape his lips. They really had no other choice. They would die here; Mingo knew it and so did they.

Stepping back from his wife, the Scot nodded his head at Mingo. Instantly Mingo sprang into action. "Let's get this camp dismantled. Boy, can you bring the team?" The little boy stood rooted to the ground beside his trembling mother. Behind him the other man spoke.

"Our team is gone." The four words relayed all the despair and shame welling inside the Scot's proud heart. Mingo heard the emotion, and his dark eyes held the other man's for several heartbeats. Then he stepped to the man's side.

His voice low and quiet, Mingo explained. "One of us will have to carry your wife, and the other will have to carry your son. They are both very weak. Or, I can go to Chota and get two friends with a horse to accompany me back here. But I'd rather we got to the village as soon as possible so your wife and baby can receive the care that they need." Mingo's eye's continued to hold the blue eyes of the Scot. His urgency communicated itself to the pioneer and he nodded. Mingo perceived that the man was beginning to lose his outward expression of confidence as he realized the danger of his situation. Before that could happen, and the resulting shame could cripple him, Mingo took control. 

He turned and dropped to his heels before the child. "Son, my name is Mingo. What's yours?"

The boy's blue eyes studied the Indian before him. Mingo allowed the searching, understanding beaming from his own eyes. The little boy's voice was low as he replied. "Ian."

"One of my favorite names," Mingo said as he extended his hand. "I'm so pleased to meet you. Now that we've met, do you suppose that you could help me?" The little boy nodded and Mingo smiled again. "I want you to put snow on this fire until it's all out. Then gather all your family's things that I see scattered on the ground here and put them in your wagon. Can you do that for me?" The little boy nodded again and bent to toss snow on the fire. Mingo stood and patted the child's thin shoulder.

"Ma'am, you just sit and rest. Is there anything that I can bring to you?" The gentle voice broke through the woman's steely expression and two tears weakly trickled down her face. She shook her head and buried her face in the baby's blanket. Her voice quivered as she spoke. "Thank you, thank you." Mingo gently patted her thin shoulder also.

The man had recovered and was helping his son put the camp equipment into the wagon. Mingo strode to examine the cargo. There was very little food in the wagon. Looking at the Scot, Mingo spoke softly. "After your family is safe and you have rested, I and some of my friends will come back here with you and carry your belongings to Chota." The weary Scot reached for Mingo's brown hand. He grasped it in his own. Mingo could see the gratitude and relief in the other man's eyes.

"I'm Alistair Cochran. My wife is Moire. The little one we haven't named yet. She's so tiny and weak that we are fearful we will lose her." Alistair's voice caught and he swallowed. "Moire had a hard time and I'm not experienced in midwifery. I thought I was going to lose her too." The man swallowed again as the strain of the past days pulled at his emotions. Mingo nodded and gripped the man's shoulder.

"We will do all that we can. If you will carry your son, I will carry your wife. Can the boy hold his sister, do you think? I am afraid that your wife is nearly unconscious and won't be able." Seeing the doubt in the man's face, Mingo quickly improvised. "Let's wrap the baby carefully and place her in your wife's shawl. I can carry her slung around my shoulder against your wife. Moire will be more at ease, and so will the child." Alistair quickly strode to the wagon and brought his wife's shawl. Explaining to his wife, the father gently wrapped his baby in the shawl and tied the infant to Mingo's body. Then Mingo bent and gently lifted Moire Cochran into his arms. His rifle slung over his right shoulder, a baby slung over his left and his arms full of a weak, unconscious white woman Mingo strode through the woods towards his Cherokee home.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Unegawaya saw Mingo aproaching the village with a woman in his arms. Behind him walked a white man carrying a child. The stocky sentry ran ahead of them to alert the village. Menewa and Atsila met Mingo before he could enter his own lodge and helped him lay the unconscious woman down on the bed. When Mingo straightened, Atsila noticed the bundle wrapped tightly against Mingo's left shoulder. She stepped behind him and carefully untied the brown shawl. Mingo cradled the infant in his tired arms as she was released from the cloth. The tiny baby squirmed in his arms and mewed weakly.

Tekawitha entered the cabin with a basin of warm water and began to wash the white woman's pale face. Menewa gestured for Atsila to take the infant. Mingo followed his uncle into Menewa's own lodge, patting the tired Scot on the shoulder as he passed. "I will return soon. This is my lodge. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. These women will provide you with something to eat and care for your wife and baby." Mingo smiled and Alistair smiled back, his gratitude evident upon his ruddy face.

Menewa and Mingo spoke for nearly an hour as Mingo explained the situation surrounding the family that he'd found in the woods. As they spoke Atsila entered the lodge and handed a plate of roasted bear meat to Mingo. Her dark eyes held his for several seconds, then she left the lodge to return to Mingo's cabin. When Menewa finished talking, Mingo rose and thanked his uncle for his hospitality. As he lifted the bear hide from Menewa's door, Mingo heard his uncle's voice behind him.

"You were right to bring them here, nephew. It will be good for the white men to know that we are truly their friends." Mingo nodded and slipped under the hide. The winter evening was approaching and the air was turning colder. Thinking of the family now safe and warm instead of shivering and frightened sent a rush of happiness through Mingo's tall body. He stepped into his own lodge and found Alistair holding his wife's limp hand. Tekawitha was packing warm stones around the woman's chilled body. She looked up and caught Mingo's eyes. She slowly shook her head.

Mingo beckoned his cousin to step outside with him. When she did, Mingo pulled her several paces away from his doorway. "Is there nothing that we can do?" he asked sorrowfully. Tekawitha shook her head and squeezed his arm.

"She is too weak. The baby came hard and she continues to bleed. I would give her medicine but it is too late. The cold and worry has robbed her body of life, cousin. I am sorry."

Mingo slowly nodded, took a deep breath and ducked under the bear hide tacked over his door. Ian was asleep beside his mother and Alistair continued to sit by his wife's side, holding her cold hand in his. He glanced up as Mingo came through the door. His wide eyes told Mingo that he knew his wife was dying. The grieving man beckoned and Mingo walked soundlessly to his side.

"I thank you for giving her this warm bed in which to die. It's a poor job that I could have done."

Mingo heard the self-reproach and sighed deeply. He placed his warm hand on the man's shoulder in comfort. Bending, he asked softly, "Do you wish me to leave you alone, or shall I stay?"

Alistair's voice was very low as he replied. "Stay. Please. Ian will need you when he wakes."

Mingo squeezed the Scot's shoulder in understanding. He ducked out into the winter night and returned shortly with two steaming cups of tea. Handing one to the silent husband, he sat in his willow chair and kept the vigil as Moire's life passed into the winter darkness.

The next morning Ian stood pressed against Mingo's leg as his father placed his mother's body into the grave. She was wrapped in a pretty blue striped blanket, and the little boy imagined that she was at last warm and at rest. Though tears ran steadily down his little face, he stood silently beside the tall Cherokee and held his hand. The Indian man was very kind. Against his will the little boy remembered wakening beside his mother only hours ago. His father sat beside the bed with his mother's hand in his own, his head bowed and his lips quivering. The tall Indian was standing beside him quietly. When Ian looked at his mother's face, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Though only six years old, he understood that his mother was dead. She looked strange, like she was made of wax. He shivered in fright, and the Indian leaned over and pulled him out of the bed and into his strong arms. He walked to the window and allowed the little boy to hold tightly to his neck and cry. 

Now his father was saying the Lord's Prayer. Beside him the Cherokee echoed his father's voice. Trying hard not to cry, Ian's high-pitched voice chimed in. "For thine is the kingdom..." Ian imagined his mother in that kingdom. She would be dressed like the princess in his fairytale book that she read to him. She would not be cold, or hurt like she had hurt only three days before when his sister appeared. He shivered as he remembered her screams and his father's shouts. Ian felt the man beside him bend and lift him to lie warmly against his tall body. He couldn't stop the sobs that shook his little body, and Mingo held the grieving child and murmured soft words of comfort. 

The memories were more than twenty years old, but Mingo clearly remembered his own mother's death and his compassion for the child was deep. He walked into the Cherokee camp and continued to speak soft words into Ian's ear. He showed the little boy Tekawitha's son Taladu, called cricket because of his small size and quick movements. Mingo spoke to the little Cherokee, and the boy disappeared into his lodge. He reappeared seconds later with a small raccoon. Mingo sat Ian on his feet and held out his slender hand to the furry animal. Chirring, the raccoon climbed Mingo's arm. Ian's little hand reached out to pet the soft fur. Beside him Taladu did the same. Mingo sat and entertained the two boys until Alistair returned for his son and took him into Mingo's lodge. Alone, the two grieved for their loss. 

Mingo rose and handed the little animal to his cousin, then entered Tekawitha's lodge to speak to her about the baby. The little girl had been given to Totsuhwa to nurse. Totsuhwa's little boy had died only a day before, and the Cherokee mother had a full supply of milk to give to the weak white baby. Tekawitha assured Mingo that the baby was still alive and that Totsuhwa would care for her as though she was her own. Nodding in relief, Mingo went to tell Alistair that his daughter was being given every chance to live and grow.

The baby flourished in the care of Totsuhwa. She was tiny and her soft white skin was tinged with pink. Mingo had likened her to the wild spring roses that grew in the Kentucky forest, and Alistair took the name for his little daughter. She grew into a happy baby, and smiled at her father and brother every time she saw them. She also smiled at Totsuhwa and Mingo. This bonding was a source of delight to everyone, and the baby grew stronger with the spring. 

Ian lived much of the winter with Tekawitha and her son Taladu. The boys developed a language all their own, a true blend of Cherokee and English. Although Alistair spoke Gaelic as well as English, Ian did not. Both Moire and he decided to teach little Ian only English. The realities of life in Britain made the decision practical. Seeking freedom no longer possible in the highlands of their homeland, the parents sought the wilds of America to raise their family. In the long hours of winter darkness Mingo and Alistair discussed the Scottish reformation and the many fine minds that came out of Alistair's Scottish homeland. The two men developed a quick friendship.

The winter was mild and quickly the spring appeared. The Kentucky meadows were alive with flowers and the birds returned early to nest. Mingo and Alistair Cochran followed the poorly drawn map back to the place where the little Rose had been born. At the ruined campsite Mingo left Alistair to mourn and tried to make out the landmarks indicated on the map.

As he puzzled out the crude marks, he heard the high-pitched war cry of a Shawnee warrior behind him. Crouching as he turned, he dodged the war axe and grabbed the warrior's wrist. Wrestling the other man to the ground, Mingo was able to turn the axe against his attacker. Seconds later he was running back to the campsite, hoping that he was not too late to help Alistair Cochran.

The Scot was lying on the ground, blood pouring from the gash sliced across his chest. A Shawnee warrior looked up with his scalping knife in his hand. Mingo's knife caught him full in the throat and he fell across Alistair's body. Mingo pulled the dying Shawnee away from his friend and bent to examine the wound. He could see the Scot's life blood pumping from the deep slash that cut across his upper chest and throat. The man tried to raise his head and Mingo's hand reached to support him.

The words were only a whisper. "Mingo, the children. Please. Get them to Moire's brother. I trust you. I trust you..." As Mingo looked into the other man's eyes he saw the light dim and go out. Alistair Cochran was dead. Mingo gently laid the heavy head onto the ground and closed the blue eyes. Then he sat on the ground and sang the Cherokee death chant for his friend. 

He carried Alistair's body into Chota. Ian saw him coming and ran to clutch his father's cold hand. Menewa and several of Mingo's friends helped him dig the grave beside his wife as Tekawitha and her mother prepared the body. Ian stood silently beside his father's grave as he had done only months before at his mother's. Mingo and he recited the Lord's Prayer, then the little boy took the tall man's hand and leaned against his hip. Mingo allowed the boy to cry for several minutes, then bent and lifted him into his arms. He gave the crying child to Tekawitha and the kind, loving woman took him into her lodge. Mingo returned to the graves and sat beside them for hours, grieving.

Hours later inside his lodge Mingo's mind tackled the problem of finding Moire's relatives and honoring Alistair's final request. He knew that he would either have to wait until Rose was weaned, or take Tutsuhwa with him to find the children's relatives. In the hours of darkness he wrestled with his choices. Finally, just at dawn he decided to first find the family himself and leave the children at Chota. At peace, he lay back on his willow bed and fell asleep.

In the morning he explained his choice to Ian. The little boy nodded his understanding. Sitting in Tekawitha's lodge with Taladu beside him, Ian felt relieved that he could stay longer with his friends. Mingo saw the relief in the little boy's eyes and wondered if Alistair's final request was wise. It would depend upon the character of the relatives, Mingo decided. He hugged Ian and Taladu, waved to Tekawitha, and set out to find his answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Suddenly Mingo understood. Alistair had come too far! The map's landmarks were closer to the mountains than they had first thought. Turning the map completely around, Mingo could make out a tall rock outcropping that was visible from the trail near the Gap. He knew where it was. Relieved at solving the riddle, he trotted mile after mile toward the Cumberland Gap. Three days later the landmark was visible. Looking at the map once again, he traced the marked path with his eyes. It seemed to follow a lightly visible trail to the north, circling around the rock outcropping. From the markings the cabin should be situated on a rise about two miles from the trail. 

An hour later Mingo saw the smoke rising from the cabin's chimney. He stood carefully concealed by the thick forest and watched the two people chopping wood. One seemed to be about Alistair's age, the other probably his son. The two worked well together, and the sound of their voices carried to Mingo's keen ear. They seemed happy. He continued to watch until the two gathered an armload of wood and entered the house. The older man affectionately placed his hand on the youth's shoulder. Mingo smiled as he watched. 

He made a camp a few hundred yards from the cabin. He would talk with them in the morning. If they were not Moire's relatives, it was possible that they knew where her brother lived. Satisfied that his mission was nearly accomplished, Mingo ate a quick supper of jerky and dried berries, drank a pot of hot coffee, and rolled into his blanket to sleep peacefully through the night.

The morning dawned with a warm drizzle of rain. Mingo awakened with a fine mist in his hair. He shook his head, wiped his face, and quickly gathered his camp equipment into his pack. The day wasn't more than an hour old but he could tell that the livestock had been fed. Evidently this family was industrious. Mingo smiled at the thought of Ian and little Rose being part of this family. Their homestead was beautifully tended. There was a large garden beside the house and a row of hollyhocks decorated the yard fence. Every building was tight and well built. Still smiling, Mingo walked out of the forest and approached the cabin. He called a greeting and stood outside the yard fence, waiting.

The door opened and a stocky man with dark hair strode through the opening. His rifle was pointed at Mingo and his hand was ready on the trigger. Mingo was used to this kind of caution and made no sudden move. His voice was calm as he spoke to the farmer. "Good morning. I am looking for the brother of Moire Fraser."

The farmer lowered his rifle but did not take his hand off the trigger. "Why do you seek Moire's brother?" Mingo heard the distinctive Scots burr in the man's voice.

"I have a message for him from Moire's husband, Alistair Fraser. Could I come closer? I feel awkward standing here shouting at you over the fence."

The stocky man measured his visitor for several seconds, then beckoned with his hand. Mingo stepped through the open gate and walked slowly to the porch steps. He made no effort to climb onto the porch. The other man looked down, his hand back on the trigger of his gun.

"What message?"

"Are you Moire's brother?"

"I might be. What is Moire's brother's name?"

"I believe that it is Ronald."

"And the clan?"

Mingo realized that he did not know the answer to that question. He did not even know Moire's maiden name.

"I am sorry, sir, but I do not know the answer to that question. The name never came up in our discussions. But I have news that Ronald needs. I believe that he is waiting for the arrival of Alistair, Moire, Ian and their new baby. True?"

Mingo caught the man fairly. He could tell from the other man's expression that he was indeed Ronald. The other man knew that he had been caught, and he removed his finger from the trigger. He invited Mingo onto the porch and sat down in a chair. Mingo sat in the other chair and delivered his sad message. He also told Ronald of his nephew and niece. Several minutes later a woman appeared with two cups of coffee in her hands. Mingo gratefully accepted and thanked her, reaching for his cup. Involuntarily the woman drew back, then recovered and extended the cup. Ronald took his own. The two men spent the next half hour in conversation. Then the Scot rose and invited Mingo inside for breakfast.

Seated around the table were three children. The youth Mingo had seen yesterday, a girl about ten and a boy about eight. Ian would be younger than the three. Ronald introduced the family. Mingo introduced himself and sat at the little boy's left. The meal was generous and Mingo could see that this family could easily accept the two children. He smiled to himself in relief that he could fulfill Alistairs' last request. His honorable heart was content.

After breakfast Ronald motioned for Mingo to follow him back outside. When he did, Mingo heard the words that he'd longed to hear. "My wife and I will take Moire's bairns. We had planned for them to live only a half mile away. The cabin is finished. Would you like to see it?" Mingo could tell that the farmer was proud of his preparations for his sister's family, so he nodded and accompanied Ronald to the cabin.

Situated beneath two towering maple trees, the cabin was well-built. The shuttered windows would provide good venilation and light. The door was well hung. The stone fireplace was large and tight. Mingo stood on the hard packed earthen floor and surveyed the interior. The loft was bright from a window cut high in the end wall of the cabin. Everything was ready to receive the family that would not come. Sadness washed over Mingo and he sighed. Beside him Ronald's thoughts paralled Mingo's and he too sighed in grief.

"Moire was a darling girl. And Alistair was a good man. Janet and I have been looking for them for more than a year now. We suspected that something dire had befallen them when they weren't here by last winter. But we convinced ourselves that they'd had to stop somewhere for the winter and would be here this spring. I thank you for the care that you gave them. It matters to me that Moire died warm and cared for. And it matters that the bairns are being cared for too. When can you bring them to us?"

"I will start back within the hour. Traveling with children will be slow, especially with Rose. I know that you are eager to provide for your sister's children, but I think it would be better to wait another year until Rose is weaned. She needs her wet nurse, and will need her for several more months."

Ronald looked down and the ground, thinking. "Let me discuss this with Janet. Come and sit on our porch and I'll give you an answer soon." Ronald extended his work-hardened hand. Mingo took it and squeezed warmly. "Words aren't enough. You are welcome in my cabin any time. And I want you to visit Moire's little ones as often as you wish. They owe you more than they could every repay."

The hardy Scot turned without another word and walked out the cabin door. Mingo stood several more minutes allowing his mind to picture Alistair, Moire, Ian and Rose at home and happy within these four walls. His eyes dark with pain, he followed Ronald and reverently closed the cabin door on all his imaginings. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mingo's journey with the two children was filled with happiness. He and his friend Wohali took them on horseback, traveling slowly and enjoying the Kentucky autumn weather. Rose and Ian had grown and flourished among Mingo's Cherokee relatives. Totsuhwa's care of the little white baby was thorough and loving. And Ian was treated like a member of Tekawitha's family. The farewell was difficult for all of them. But Mingo asssured the children that they could see their Cherokee friends any time they wished. In his heart he knew that it was unlikely that any of them would ever see the two white children again, but he hid that belief from Ian and Rose. He was determined that Ian have no more painful memories to haunt his dreams.

Ian was a serious little boy. He had his mother's dark hair and his father's bright blue eyes. Little Rose remained as her namesake, fair and blooming. As Mingo rode through the Kentucky forest with the little girl in his arms, he delighted in the feel of her soft warm body against his. She was a very happy little girl, and hummed to herself as she rode. The nearly two years of her life had been filled with loving attention from a large extended family group. Her life would forever be grounded in the love of those early years.

In the long hours of travel Mingo often allowed his mind to gaze into the future and see the little girl grown. She would be a lovely woman, and her family would be blessed. He saw light hair grown darker, as her parents' hair, and her blue eyes framed by long brown lashes. Her skin would retain the pink blush that suggested her name. She would not be tall, as her parents were not tall, but she would be shapely and her body would be strong. She would retain her happy nature and live her life in joy.

The journey was over too soon and the Barrie house welcomed the two new members. Wohali stayed in the forest camp and allowed Mingo to take the two children to their new home, knowing that the parting would be painful for his friend. As Mingo bent and kissed Ian, then Rose, he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke loving words of pride and hope to his two little charges. Then he gripped Ronald's hand, gave the children one last loving look, and strode rapidly into the surrounding forest.

Wohali and Mingo rode back to Chota and arrived in half the time that the journey east had taken. Mingo immediately left again, alone, to accustom himself to the loss of the two children. He knew that he had done the right thing taking them to their aunt and uncle. He knew that he had fulfilled Alistair's last wish. But the pain of the parting was still raw, and he needed time to heal. 

Five seasons passed until it was once again spring. Mingo decided to make the journey to see Ian and Rose, and leaving Chota one bright spring day he rode east with happy anticipation. He made the distance in less than a week and spent three days with the Barrie family. Ian and Charles, the Barrie's youngest, were very close and Ian had gained at least two inches in height and twenty pounds in weight. Rose was the family darling, and was an accomplished story teller and wag. She was nothing like her reticent parents or her stoic aunt and uncle. Mingo laughed at her gift of mimicry, and the little girl spent her waking hours entertaining her Cherokee friend.

In his mind Mingo delighted in called the little girl "Highland Rose". The name pleased him. It suited her so well, decended from the Scottish highlands, living in the Kentucky highlands. Together they walked in the spring sunshine. Rose filled her little fist with wildflowers which she poked into Mingo's long black braids. Mingo showed her the nesting birds and set her carefully in a blooming linden tree to smell the sweet white flowers. He climbed beside her and they sat in the tree for hours, gently rocking in the breeze. One afternoon Mingo took Ian and Rose fishing, and when the little girl fell into the stream after ignoring Mingo's stern warnings she laughed at his scolding until he had to join her. It was impossible to remain angry with so sunny a sprite.

The three days passed quickly and as Mingo stood on the porch and kissed Rose and hugged Ian his loving heart was singing with joy. The two children, so dearly loved by many in Chota, were also dearly loved by their adoptive family. Mingo knew that when he told his family everyone would be as happy as he. He swung into the saddle and lifted his hand in farewell. Rose blew him a kiss with her little pink hand and Mingo pretended to catch it, causing the child to giggle happily. His handsome face split into a wide grin, Mingo turned the horse and headed back to Chota.

Every spring thereafter Mingo visited the children. Faithfully for five years he rode through the forest springtime. Ian was now a strong lad of fourteen and Rose a bubbling child of eight. This year Taladu sent Ian a Cherokee bow and arrows. Tekawitha sent a pair of moccasins, using Taladu as a reluctant model. Atsila sent a beaded armband. For Rose, Tekawitha and Atsila sent a beautiful beaded dress, judging the size from Mingo's description. As was his wont, Mingo's mind painted images of the two children as he imagined them to be. His journey was swift and he arrived at the Barrie cabin just a little more than four days after leaving Chota.

It was early evening and the cabin was lit by firelight. The Barrie's recently acquired collie dog announced his arrival and Ronald Barrie opened the cabin door with his gun in his hand. Mingo's mind shot back to the first day he met Ronald Barrie, and the memory caused his lips to lift in a small smile. Relishing the memory, Mingo swung down from his horse and turned to climb the porch stairs. It was then that he fully looked at Ronald and saw a changed man.

His ruddy face bore a stubble of dark beard. His open shirt was stained and dirty. His eyes were shadowed, and a bolt of fear shot through Mingo's heart. His happy greeting died on his lips as he climbed the three steps onto the Barrie porch. His brown face was pale and his heart pounded as his Cherokee spirit alerted him to disaster. He swallowed and faced Ronald Barrie.

"Tell me, Ronald. It's Rose, isn't it?"

Ronald Barrie shook his head as though to shake away droplets of sweat, then raised his blue eyes to Mingo's. His voice sounded hollow, as though he was speaking into a wooden bucket. "She's gone." The words began to pour out of the stocky man's throat as though he had saved them and now they were all to be spent. "The lass wouldna abide by warnings. There was no fear in the bairn! She took it into her head to go awalking and we told her to stay away. We told her! Ian was the last. 'Don't go near the caves, Rosie.' But she did as she wanted, always. Bold she was, foolish. I don't know why..." The man's voice trailed away and his downcast eyes closed in pain. Mingo gripped his arms and shook him.

"Tell me! Tell me what happened to Rose!" Mingo's voice rose harshly as distress squeezed his heart.

"It was snakes, Mingo." Janet's voice was lifeless in the shadows of the porch. She had silently come to stand behind her husband, unnoticed by either man. "It started to rain, a light spring shower. I don't know why Rose went into the caves. She walked in the rain all the time. There were rattlesnakes in the caves. We warned her. We all warned her." Like her husband, Janet's voice trailed away and silence fell upon the Barrie porch.

A deep tremor passed through Mingo's body as he absorbed the words. His legs trembled and he was forced to sit on the porch steps to prevent collapsing. His hands gripped the edge of the wooden steps. Memories swirled through his mind: Rose in his arms, Rose in the linden tree, Rose picking wildflowers. The feel of her little hand in his. Her smile. Her infectious laugh. The sparkle of joyous life in her clear blue eyes. Moire dying in his bed. Alistair's last words. Ian's tears. Ian! Mingo's head snapped up and he pulled himself from the stairs to face Ronald and Janet.

"Where is Ian? Where's the boy?"

Neither Barrie acknowledged Mingo's question. They had retreated into the shadowy world of their grief. Mingo pushed by them and into the cabin. Inside he found James and Catherine but not Charles or Ian. They would be together. He walked unsteadily to James. "Where are Ian and Charles?" he demanded.

James' blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "They are at the caves. Ian went wild. We couldn't stop him. He took a stick of wood with him. He's gone back every day. He's killing snakes. Charles...Charles tries to keep him safe." James' head dropped onto his chest in sorrow.

Mingo dashed back to the porch. He gripped Ronald's arm and again shook the wounded Scot. "Where are the caves? Tell me quickly!"

Ronald Barrie pointed soundlessly to the northeast. Mingo leaped off the porch and ran northeast. After only a quarter of a mile he saw Charles sitting before the mouth of a limestone cave. Collapsed beside him was Ian. His heart in his throat, Mingo raced to Ian's side. Charles spread his arms protectively over his cousin's prone body.

"He asleep. Mingo! He's just asleep."

Mingo's strength drained from his body and he weakly sat beside the sleeping youth. After several minutes his breathing returned to normal and he glanced at Charles sitting silently beside Ian. Compassion and understanding shone in the boy's blue eyes. He nodded wordlessly, stood and walked

quietly toward his family's cabin leaving Mingo sitting vigilantly beside Ian. Ian spoke words of alarm in his sleep, the sound jarring in the quiet air. Mingo smoothed the boy's brown hair comfortingly and the dream passed.

The evening air was glowing in the pink of the sunset when Ian awoke to find Mingo sitting beside him. His indigo blue eyes filmed with sudden tears, Ian reached for Mingo's embrace. Together they grieved for all of their losses. Time hung suspended as their anguish poured from their hearts. The early stars were winking brightly when Ian pulled loose from Mingo's arms. With a last quivering sigh, the youth began to tell his story to the man that he trusted above all others.

"Mingo, I warned her. I did. So did Uncle. James had even shown her the snakes last summer. She hated snakes." Ian's voice quivered and he breathed deeply to steady it. Beside him Mingo reached a comforting hand to the boy's shoulder. "That's what hurts so much. I imagine what it was like. Little Rose screaming for help, and no one there. The snakes striking again and again. The fangs in her little legs. Her falling as she tried to get away and the snakes striking her body. I can't let it go. Mingo, I can see it happen in my mind. Over and over. In my sleep. When I'm awake. Oh why, why?" Ian buried his face in his hands as Mingo's arm encircled his shoulders.

In the beautiful spring twilight Mingo spoke to the trembling boy. "Ian, I can't answer you. I have lived more than two times your lifetime, and I don't understand why such terrible things happen. The Greeks blamed Pandora, remember? But son, the world is a dangerous place and we who travel here must deal with that fact. I have discovered one thing that may help you. You have a memory, Ian. And in those memores the people that we love are forever living. I don't believe the Rose's spirit is dead." Mingo swallowed the lump that threatened to close his throat as his eyes stung with quick tears. He pushed his memories from his mind and continued. "Even when we are gone from this earth, Rose's spirit lives on. Some believe that her spirit is with God. I have seen too much to call them fools. I like to think that she is in the air around us, which we breathe in and she becomes one with us. We carry her inside ourselves, Ian. Where we go, she goes. When we laugh, she laughs. When we delight in the spring sunlight, so does she. She sees the stars through our eyes. Ian? I love you. And so do your aunt and uncle, and your cousins. So do Tekawitha and Taladu. Come with me away from here and let your heart heal. Then when you return, you will be ready to live your life. And let Rose live through you."

Ian looked into Mingo's dark eyes. He nodded slightly and sighed. Mingo stood unsteadily, stiffened his spine and pulled Ian to his feet. Together they walked back to the Barrie cabin. They ate a small supper and Ian went to bed. Mingo explained his offer to the Barries and they agreed. Then Mingo asked to see Rose's grave. James rose and walked to the door. Mingo clenched his jaw and followed.

Fifty yards from the cabin's yard fence was a small enclosure. In the moonlight Mingo could see a mound of freshly turned earth and a smaller sunken area covered in wildflowers. James silently stood before the little gate, then turned and left the Cherokee alone. After several seconds Mingo opened the gate and walked silently to the new mound. In the blue moonlight he could see a bunch of wilted wild roses at the head of the mound. The mute tribute released all the bound grief and Mingo lay against the moist Kentucky earth and allowed the darkness to take him down.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ian walked alone in the Kentucky shade as the summer heat shimmered over the land. Every evening he entered Mingo's lodge and spent the night with his dearest friend. Together the man and youth reviewed man's fragility and strength. Mingo taught Ian the wisdom in his beloved books. They read Shakespeare, Dantes, Milton, and all the Greek poets. Nothing was forbidden and Ian was able to release his anger and his despair. When Ian was ready, he asked Mingo for a Bible. His eyebrows raised in wonder, Mingo produced the book. Then he walked in the deep forest to quiet his own emotions.

Returning in mid-day, Mingo found Ian asleep in his bed. After a quick meal in Menewa's lodge, Mingo slipped the Bible from Ian's hand and took the volume into the forest to read. The ancient words filled Mingo's heart as he read author after author asking the same questions that swirled in his mind. Strangely comforted by that knowledge, Mingo entered his lodge after sundown and found Ian sitting quietly in his willow chair. The youth smiled for the first time in many weeks. Mingo's heart skipped a beat as the relief washed over him. His own smile caused Ian to rise and hug his friend gratefully. Mingo's arms returned the hug and the two went to Tekawitha's lodge to share the meal and loving fellowship.

A week later they were standing at the forest's edge before the Barrie cabin. The hollyhocks were in full bloom and the chickens scratched hungrily at the fence. They hear a cow low in the barnyard behind the cabin. Ian turned to Mingo, his voice low and confidential. "Mingo, I want to see Rose before I see anyone else."

Mingo nodded and the two kept to the cover of the trees until they were at the gated cemetary. The sight of the little fence covered in morning glories caused Mingo to catch his breath. The grief was still very powerful. Beside him Mingo saw Ian tremble. Before he could touch the boy, Ian walked to the gate and opened it. Mingo turned away to give the youth time alone with his little sister. He sat with his back against a linden tree. The floor of the forest was covered with spent linden blossoms. Tears formed in his dark eyes as the memories pressed against his heart. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head onto his crossed arms.

The Barries embraced Ian lovingly and welcomed him home. The evening meal was lavish and Mingo retired to his camp feeling drowsy. He lay on his blanket and fell asleep quickly. The summer moon bathed his slender body with its cool light. Wakening suddenly, Mingo lay on his back looking into the bluish rays. Rose's laughter seemed to echo through the trees. He stood and slipped to her grave. The moonlight illuminated the morning glories and the white fence guarding her slumber. He sat beside the mound and spoke aloud all his memories. He disclosed all his unfulfilled dreams for her. The warm air, sweet with the scent of flowers, absorbed his voice. Humbly he gave thanks to his Creator for the gift of His Highland Rose. When Mingo raised his eyes to the starry sky, his heart saw Rose skimming lightly above the treetops, her laughter trilling through the summer midnight. He swallowed and smiled through his tears. She was forever young, forever bright, forever filled with the joy of living. In his heart she was eternal. 


End file.
